


The Easy Things

by thislifeinanutshell



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 04:33:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4732922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thislifeinanutshell/pseuds/thislifeinanutshell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In his head it had been easy: Grab Dorian by the shoulders, remove all of these expensive enchanter robes and have sex. Lots and lots of sex. In reality it all feels like too much too fast, especially when so many things are left unsaid. </p>
<p>He likes Dorian, too much for his own good, after all he had thought he would never get attached, stay in his clan and live a somewhat happy, if dull life. Evidently the Gods had other plans for him, it would have been too easy, anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Easy Things

  “Evidently, I'm terrible at accepting gifts”, Dorian smirks. Aryeh feels a warm hand on the back of his neck, pulling him into a gentle embrace. They kiss lazily for several minutes, until Dorian's tongue trails his lower lip and Aryeh produces a sound in the back of his throat he didn't even knew he was capable of making.

The low chuckle coming from his companion sends shivers down his spine and Dorian's hands seem to be everywhere at once. In his hair, on his arms, his backside, slowly guiding him even further into the library, away from any possible onlookers. 

Until now they've never had the chance to have any form of privacy. Sometimes Aryeh could flee the war room and join Dorian in his small space in the library, but more often then not they still spend all of their time hunched over ancient books, on the lookout for anything concerning Corypheus and his army of red templars. It was frankly put tedious and tiring work and after a long night of staring onto pages filled with tiny words put together in complicated phrases, neither of them was in the mood for anything more primal. At least Aryeh wasn't. Quite unsurprisingly Dorian always seemed to be in the right mood, but luckily had a somewhat good idea on when to start his advances.

Aryeh feels his back being pressed against a bookshelf, his companions body is firm and compact underneath his slender fingers and his mouth is tenderly moving towards his collarbone, leaving faint pink marks on its way. It takes Aryeh all his willpower to not let his head fall back with a loud moan, knowing any other people in the library would be scarred for life in the process. 

Dorian's breath is rugged in his ears, an exquisite sound indeed, though there's another thing that has changed. Aryeh can feel Dorian's erection firmly pressed against his thigh, a feeling that is definitely arousing in its own way, but most of all terrifying.

It appears to be entirely different to dream of such a scene than to experience it live in person. In Aryeh's head it had been easy: Grab Dorian by the shoulders, remove all of these expensive enchanter robes and have sex. Lots and lots of sex. In reality, he has no idea what he should be doing and as he feels Dorian's hand moving from his shoulder down to whole different area, his eyes fly open and he momentarily forgets how to breath. This is all too much too fast.

Dorian notices his sudden change in behavior and moves away, if only a bit, to study his Inquisitor's face.

“Is something the matter?”, he asks and the worry in his voice is too pure to be true. 

Aryeh has no idea what to say, how to say it. He doesn't want to hurt Dorian and most of all he wants this, but not when too much is left unsaid. He shakes his head.

“It's just that, ah, Cullen has only given me a short break to deliver the amulet in person, he's probably expecting me in the war room to discuss the expenses of our army.”

It is a blatant lie. Cullen had specifically told him to take the night off to get some rest after their explorations of the Exalted Plains a few days prior. Plus, the adviser is well aware of Aryeh's lack of talent concerning the management of the troops. Still, it seems entirely plausible.

“You really never stop working, do you?”, Dorian asks, a small smile playing at his upper lip.

Aryeh shrugs. “It's rather annoying to be the only one who's able to save this world”, he says with an exaggerated sigh. Laughter fills the library for several moments and Aryeh can't help but adore the man in front of him even more.

“Off you go then”, Dorian grins encouragingly, giving him one last kiss on the lips, “go save the world, Herald, but do call me when some evil dark spawn need killing.”

 

 

Aryeh makes sure to move down the stairs as quickly as possible, past Solas who seems to have fallen asleep over a mysteriously glowing mosaic piece, Varric, who's scribbling something in a tattered notebook and Vivienne who's eyeing him suspiciously from the top of the main hall.

Making sure Dorian has not followed him, Aryeh ignores the door leading to the war room and heads straight to his own quarters, closing the door with a sigh of relieve. He flops down onto his bed and stares at the decorated ceiling, as if the pompous satin bears any answers to his problem. He likes Dorian, too much for his own good, after all he had thought he would never get attached, stay in his clan and live a somewhat happy, if dull life. Evidently the Gods had other plans for him, it would have been too easy, anyway.

He takes off his robe and walks outside into the cold night air wearing only his long linen underpants. Nights at Skyhold are freezing and his mind wanders to Dorian who must be currently sitting on his bed, covered by a dozen blankets, yet still complaining about the weather.

Having worked as a simple hunter for his clan, Aryeh was used to marching through the woods, sometimes for several days and nights without a decent break, always on the lookout for anything eatable. He had endured way more challenging temperatures, thus the chilly air makes him shiver only a little bit but clears his mind and spirit as well. His fingers move towards the fine scars on his chest, two rounded lines just underneath his armpits. They have healed well over the years, are hardly noticeable and honestly, the Inquisition was hardly up for an excursion to a swimming pond anytime soon. No, the scars are the least of his problems, just like most of his body. He is just a bit smaller than Solas, but still a lot buffer than the majority of female elves, his nose angular and his voice deep and almost always a bit hoarse.

There is only one small, yet crucial detail, the one it had always seemed to come down to. It never mattered how heroic or kind he was, at least during his clan life, all what people cared for had been the contents of his pants.

The Inquisition didn't know, thus didn't care and he preferred it that way, he gladly took any of the titles he'd been given over the ones from back home. The ones that made him feel shame and disgust towards his own body. Until now it had been fine, he had been able to live with it and he mostly felt happiness when stumbling upon his own reflections. Now it all seemed to turn into ashes.

There's no way he would be able to tell Dorian and for a second he contemplates simply calling the whole thing off, thinking that would make it all somehow less painful. Indeed, hiding would be way easier than the confrontation, but he could never forgive himself, seeing Dorian walking around Skyhold and never knowing what could have been.

He looks upon the horizon sprinkled with mountain ranges and makes a decision.

 

 

***

 

 

“I am an Aqun-Athlok”, Aryeh says solemnly, looking at Dorian who is currently sitting at his desk, legs propped up, seemingly not having a care in the world about spoiling the Inquisitor's personal documents with his dirty boots.

“I think you'll have to be a little more specific”, he admits, tilting his head a bit to the left.

Aryeh groans, hands gripping at his own hair. This is yet another scene that had played far better in his head: Grab Dorian by the shoulders, talk about the most private thing in his life, remove the expensive clothing and have sex. Lots and lots of sex. The word the Iron Bull had mentioned the other night had been the perfect explanation, sweet and to the point and later, when he had talked to Krem and sheepishly admitted his own situation, the two of them had decided there was no better word in any other language.

The common tongue lacked a word that wasn't close to an insult, Dorian would hardly be able to understand elvish and Aryeh was too unfamiliar with Tevene to even order a meal, let alone talk about his personal secrets.

“There is no way I can explain it”, he sighs and drops down on his bed, head in hands.

“Just try, I won't bite your head off”

Dorian voice is entirely too encouraging, too sweet, too loving. Aryeh feels like crawling under the sheets, never to return, but he does realize it's not a possibility.

He looks up from his hands, into Dorian's big caring eyes. “Aqun-Athlok. Being born one gender but living like the other. Feeling like the other. Being the other.”

Dorian makes a little oh sound, surprise covering his face. He lets his feet drop from the desk and for a moment Aryeh thinks he'll simply leave. Leave him like the lonely freak he is but Dorian simply walks over to the bed, sits down next to him and captures his lips with a passionate kiss. It takes several moments for Aryeh to realize he's not alone and Dorian is indeed not going anywhere, but it all seems too good to be true. He gently takes Dorian's face in his hands and guides him far enough to have a good look at his features.

“You don't have a problem with it?”, Aryeh asks, hardly able to contain the shock in his voice.

“Not at all”, Dorian says simply, leaning forwards to kiss his Inquisitor's face again.

“But I'm not-”

“I don't care”

“But I don't have-”

“Look”, Dorian sighs and looks at Aryeh with an honesty the elf has never seen in his eyes before. “I don't care what you are and what you have and don't have. You are a man to me and everybody out there. Sweet Maker, you are the Inquisitor, if they annoy you just poke them with a stick. I'll join you. I thought you were going to... Well, at first I thought you wanted to restart where we stopped yesterday, then I thought you were going to send me into exile by the sheer look on your face. Now, if you don't mind, let me finish seducing you, alright? Don't you worry, I am quite omniscient when it comes to the human body during sex.”

 

 

***

 

 

It does take longer than expected to remove Dorian's clothing, with all its fancy buckles, leather straps and seemingly useless belts, but once they are off, sweet Gods. Dorian's skin is like honey glistering in his sun, his body hair trimmed and his muscles as defined as Aryeh had imagined.

“It's all yours”, Dorian grins and runs a hand over his own chest teasingly. “But first we have to get these robes off of you.”

He proceeds to lift up Aryeh's simple elven tunic, as panic arises in the Inquisitor's guts. What if Dorian would change his mind after all?

“Aryeh, look at me. I wouldn't want you any other way”, Dorian says firmly and only hearing him say his name like that makes Aryeh trust him.

Once his chest is bared Dorian's hands start to wander, only lingering for mere seconds on the scars and moving on towards his trousers, tearing them down in a swift movement. Aryeh feels vulnerable, expecting laughter, or worst of all disgust, but his companion only smiles, lips curling up mere millimeters but showing all the love in this world.

“Maker, you are magnificent”, Dorian breathes and leans forward to kiss Aryeh rough on the lips. They do not say much after that. Dorian's tongue really is as talented as they say and he let's it explore regions Aryeh had been to shy to expose to anyone before. When it's his turn, Dorian is gentle, non-demanding, directing him without any embarrassment and rewarding Aryeh with the sweetest sounds of pleasure coming from his lips. What can he say, it is quite the achievement to have the ever talking Tevinter mage turning to putty underneath his fingers.

“That was... certainly nice”, Aryeh laughs afterwards, entangled in his companion's limbs, too tired to move anywhere else, not that he would ever want to do that.

“Just nice? I'm deeply offended”, Dorian says, wearing a fake expression of shock.

“You know what I mean.”

“Quite indeed”, he chuckles, “but let me tell you this, we haven't even reached the best parts yet.”

“Another time, when I'm not feeling like I just fought a herd of raging Red Templars”, Aryeh smiles, strokes Dorian's cheek and nestles his head between his collarbone and his chest. He feels a light kiss on his forehead and for the first time in weeks, after all he's been through, shining marks, mage rebellions and the loss of Haven, he truly does feel safe.

 


End file.
